d back Jack gayly.

“And they’ve got to be freshly roasted, too,” broke in Andy. “No stale
old goobers from
[7]

Rigoletto’s place where they’ve been lying in his show window for a
month or two! They’ve got to be freshly roasted, right out of the whistling
roaster!”
“Get ready—pull!” cried Gif, a few seconds later, and at this word of
command from the head of the general athletic committee the four Rovers
started up the lake with the other boat close by their side.
It was a beautiful day in early summer, and the surface of Clearwater
Lake sparkled in the sunshine. There was scarcely any wind and
consequently conditions were ideal for rowing.
Ever since they had come to the military academy the four Rover boys
had spent more or less time on the river and the lake beyond, so they were
no novices when it came to handling an oar. Jack set the pace, and his
three cousins kept stroke with him in a fashion that could not help but win
approval.
“Come on, fellows! We’ve got to beat ’em!” cried Gif Garrison to his
rowing mates. “Pull now, and make every stroke tell!”
“We are not as well matched up as they are,” panted Ned Lowe, who
was by far the poorest rower of the bunch. “Those Rovers have been
rowing together ever since they came to the Hall.”
[8]
“Don’t growl, Ned! Row!” returned the leader, and then the cadets in the
second boat did their best to outstrip their rivals.
It was certainly a spirited race and well worth watching. But no other
craft was in sight, the two rowboats apparently having that portion of the
lake entirely to themselves. The aeroplane which had attracted the rowers’
attention had glided away in the distance and they could no longer hear the
roar of the motor.
Berry Island was little more than a quarter of a mile away. It was for the
most part very rocky, but at one end there was a somewhat sandy beach
where the boys occasionally went in bathing.
 “Say, it wouldn’t be a bad stunt to go in swimming after this race,”
puffed Randy, as he bent over his oar.
“No use to go in when you’re all tired out and in a sweat,” declared
Fred, who on account of his stoutness found it rather dif cult to keep up
with the others.
The Rovers had forged ahead, and it looked very much as if they would
win the race when suddenly Randy began to drag. Then he lost his stroke
and that threw his brother out of stroke, too, and this caused the rowboat to
swerve from
[9]

its course and the craft under Gif Gar

fi